Revival Promises
by Osckmo
Summary: Damon promises Bonnie he'll do anything she wants, much to his horror. Just some post-season 8 frenemies getting their banter on.
1. Reluctant Marathoning

"Anything else. Literally, Bon-Bon. Anything. Let's adopt puppies instead. Those cute things with the squash faces and curly tails."

"Nope." Bonnie reclined back into the sofa cushions sipping red wine.

"Kittens then. Black ones, they can sit on your broomstick as you soar over Mystic Falls. You can name one Salem!"

Damon paused from rummaging through Bonnie and Enzo's kitchen cupboards to gauge Bonnie's reaction. She shook her head. He sighed, abandoning that particular cupboard, leaving the door swinging open and explored the cupboards below the sink.

"What exactly are you looking for? In _my_ kitchen?" Bonnie fiddled with the settings on the television.

"Bourbon. Lots of it. I'm almost out.", Damon retorted, fishing his flask from a jeans pocket and giving it a shake in demonstration.

"We don't drink bourbon.", Bonnie informed him. "We drink wine."

"That's a ridiculous thing to say."

Bonnie shrugged. "Deal with it. You're not getting out of this. You promised."

"I didn't _know_ what I was promising!" Damon huffed, slamming the cupboard door. Glass rattled, and Damon tackled a cupboard above the stove. Inside sat an unopened bottle of scotch and half a bottle of vodka.  
"There you are," Damon told the bottles, snatching them up. He gulped down several mouthfuls of the scotch, not bothering with a glass.

"Seriously, Damon, not everything needs to be so dramatic. You've literally been to Hell...", Bonnie rolled her eyes at his theatrics.

He swallowed. "Yeah, exactly. Which should be an indication of how much worse this is!" Damon stalked through the room. "And Enzo cheaped out on the scotch. The universe is punishing me for my sins." Damon reconsidered.  
"How's about we hire some strippers, make this night fun?", he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"I don't really need boobs jiggling in my face, thanks though.", Bonnie deadpanned.

" _Boy strippers_!", Damon emphasised. "Or I could just compel that shelf stacker from the grocery store to come over. You like him, he can do a dance for you."

"What?!', Bonnie squeaked. "I do _not_ like him! We just have a shared interest in green tea!"

Damon smirked knowingly. "He is really dreamy though, right?"

"I can hurt you, you know."

"With your mind, yes, been there, done that, sent you postcards," Damon continued grinning, "It's just interesting that your heart rate increased when you spoke to green tea-loving grocery store guy. And again right now. That is weird, right?" He winked at her.

Bonnie blushed a little and tossed a cushion in Damon's general direction. "Shut up. Stop using your vamp powers for evil. I love Enzo, asshole."

"Then why isn't _he_ here, being tortured?!" Damon gestured around the cabin.

"He's busy, but sends you his love," Bonnie stonefaced, fishing the remote control out from between the sofa cushions. "Sit down and stop sulking. You were a jerk, as usual, and you promised me anything to make it up to me. This is what I want."

Damon huffed dramatically, flopping onto the couch next to Bonnie. He scratched mindlessly at his newly grown facial hair. Not quite a beard but a bit more than stubble. Girls found that look hot, he'd discovered, and with Elena gone for another 70 years casual dating was where he was at. Sipping at his scotch, Damon narrowed his eyes at Bonnie and her scheming. She was using the fact they were best friends against him, she knew exactly what would make him most miserable, she was awful, and he would get his reven-,

"Oooooh, Pop-Tarts!", Damon interrupted his own inner seething as he scanned the coffee table in front of him. He reached for a strawberry flavoured one and Bonnie slapped his hand away. Damon scowled at her.

"Not yet!", she said.

Damon took note of the extensive food spread that lay before them. The table was also crammed with pizza, Chinese food and burgers.

"Uhh. Bonster. Exactly how many people did you invite to this horror show shindig?", Damon inquired, eyeing the Pop-Tarts.

"Just you and me,", Bonnie grinned, still sipping her wine. "Ready?"

Damon rolled his eyes slowly and emphatically, draping an arm around Bonnie's shoulders. Moaning pitifully, he asked, "Is this even going to make sense if I haven't seen the show?"

"Nope!", Bonnie exclaimed cheerfully.

"You do know I've saved your life. More than once! At the expense of my soulmate resting in her coffin.", Damon reminded her.

"And you're such a gentleman that you don't ever remind me of that fact ad nauseum. Just like I never remind you that you've tried to kill me. More than once. Almost at the expense of me living.", Bonnie retorted helpfully.

"Why can't you do this with Caroline?", Damon complained around a slice of pizza he'd snatched off the table. "Blondie loves this crap."

"She watched it the day it came out, all in one night. I couldn't, I hadn't finished season 7 yet. But I have, now, and am ready and excited. Aren't you excited, Damon?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, his voice dangerously low and gravelly. "Fine. Let's get this over with then, Bon", Damon enunciated. "Who exactly am I 'shipping' and will you need a bib to contend with the drool?"

"Shush, you", dimissed Bonnie, as she fired up Netflix. "Jess is worthy of swooning over. He's the perfect boyfriend for Rory, and I've been waiting almost ten years for their relationship to be consummated."

Damon raised his eyebrows at her. "Bonnie Bennett, ever the romantic. Is he the flowers and chocolates type then?"

"No, he's the leather-clad bad boy, actually.", Bonnie replied.

"Heh. The bad boy in a PG-rated soap? What does he do, forget to buy tickets to the Prom?"

"No! He didn't forget, he'd flunked out of school and wasn't allowed to attend!", Bonnie said quickly, defensively.

Both chuckled at that and as Bonnie pressed play on the Gilmore Girls revival, she and Damon both tucked into the food in front of them with gusto.

Six hours later, Bonnie dozed lightly in a daze of wine, food and joy. She awoke with a start at the sound of Damon's voice. He was standing now, gesturing wildly at the television that was now playing the Gilmore Girls theme song.

"Rory, you blind whorish idiot, can't you see how much Jess adores you?! He's a fucking Yoda and she cares about that rich married dickhead. All the booksmarts in the world can't save her, she's a hopeless case!"

Bonnie cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know what he sees in her, honestly", Damon continued ranting. "Does she have a vagina made of-"

"They never had sex", Bonnie interrupted.

"But she slept with the tall married guy with 4 kids instead? What a moron. This girl deserves to be alone and single living in a creepy cabin in the woods!", he exclaimed.

"Hey! I love this cabin. Not single, have an Enzo."

"Ugh. Nobody wants an Enzo. Better off single, honestly.', Damon joked, and was rewarded with a backhanded slap to the thigh.

"So", Bonnie began, "Engrossed, huh? When are we going to watch the original series together?"

Damon gathered up his leather jacket. "Nope. Not happening, not ever. I fulfilled my promise. I am done. Have a nice life."

Bonnie smiled at him demurely from her place on the sofa. "So, next Tuesday then?"

Damon relented without hesitation. "It's a date." He waved goodbye and as he strode out the door he called out, "There better be Pop-Tarts."

Once outside, he took a few steps in the direction of his car before he stopped and made his way to the cabin window. In the darkness she wouldn't be able to see him, but the inside of the cabin was illuminated with fairy lights and he could see her.

Bonnie looked beautiful; happy and serene.

Damon lingered there just a little too long.


	2. Stretchy Cheerleaders

Nowadays, Damon preferred being asleep to being awake. He'd often felt this way through the years, especially the first few decades after he had died and Stefan had coerced him into becoming a vampire. Life had been okay though, throughout the 20th century. He bit a lot and had sex a lot and bit while having sex a lot. He killed a lot of people too, and that was pretty fun. Sometimes he had his humanity and sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he tried to go it straight and be the possessor of hero hair. Mostly he didn't. And things were fine, so long as he didn't overthink anything. Thinking hurt; feeling hurt.

Elena shattered his world. B.E., Before Elena, he was treading water, just killing time until Katherine returned, conniving fucking bitch that she was. But A.E., everything slowed down. He felt things. And it hurt, and it felt amazing. Like he was a real person again. Damon cared again. Everything sped up too. It happened so quickly, falling in love with her, her falling in love with him, having her.

Losing her.

Feeling things was no longer amazing. It sucked. Damon didn't really want to be conscious anymore, and he couldn't get away with a second attempt at desiccation. If not for the promise of a future with Elena many many decades down the track, he probably would have taken off his daylight ring and let the sunshine envelop him. Stefan had Caroline; he'd be fine without him, probably.

Whenever Damon closed his eyes, Elena was there. It was bittersweet. Comforting. And so even though he knew that she wouldn't judge him for his dalliances with other women, she'd encourage it even, he couldn't help but feel remorse afterwards. He'd close his eyes and she'd be there, twirling, laughing, adoration in her eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him the way Elena did.

Damon had seduced and bedded (figuratively; no bed had been involved, they used the library for non-reading purposes) a pretty blonde cheerleader the night before. He fed on her too, but erased that part of the evening from her mind. She begged to spend the night despite Damon's insistence that he had a photoshoot in the early morning. Damon enjoyed creating myriad fictional careers for himself, international supermodel was probably his favourite. The cheerleader refused to leave though, squealing and giggling, skipping about, searching the boardinghouse for Damon's room. No girl was allowed in his bed, he couldn't bear it, and so Damon whirled passed her and grasped her tightly by the wrists in a moment of frustration before he compelled her to leave. He consoled himself with whiskey until he passed out in front of the fireplace.

"Hey, Flaky.", Bonnie's disembodied voice said, as it poked him in the ribs.

"Leave me alone. I am very busy and important,", Damon mumbled. He sounded groggy, words thick with sleep. He refused to open his eyes, the pull of unconsciousness so enticing. Elena was there.

"Damon.", Bonnie's disembodied voice sounded stern now, but still he kept his eyes closed. The couch was comfortable, even if the roaring fire had died in his sleep.

"Bonnie.", he mimicked, same stern tone.

"Have you even left the house this week?", Bonnie's disembodied voice was judgy now, if it was bodied it probably would have had its hands on its hips. Which, indeed, Bonnie did have.

"I'll have you know, Witchy, I met an intriguingly flexible woman at a bar last night. She was delicious." Damon smiled as he could feel Bonnie's distaste seeping through her pores. "Her name was Allegra. Allegra can do the splits. _Three different ways_."

"You're disgusting."

"I can draw diagrams if you'd like. Or just show you the photos." He was grinning now.

"Gross. Do you know what day it is?", Bonnie's disembodied voice clicked its tongue disapprovingly.

"The one where you obnoxiously ruin my peace with your incessant yapping?"

"Correct. Also known as Wednesday.", Bonnie's disembodied voice informed.

Damon finally opened his eyes, squinting. Bonnie loomed over him. She wore a pretty green sundress and an expression of concern mixed with annoyance. That was kinda nice.

"Should that mean something to me? Am I late for a Wednesday hipster brunch with Enzo? Because if there's hipster Bloody Marys in it for me, I am in. Extra Mary in mine, extra Bloody. Hold the hipster though, they taste like vaping and pretension." Damon sat up and yawned.

"Noooo," Bonnie said slowly, "no adorable man-dates, but you're late for my foot up your ass." She slapped him lightly in the side of the head.

"Ouch. Nope, that's scheduled in my diary for two o'clock."

"Today's Wednesday, which means yesterday was Tuesday.", Bonnie spelled out.

"I am familiar with the way the days are ordered, but I appreciate the impromptu kindergarten lesson all the same."

Damon stretched and made his way over to a decanter of whiskey. He poured some into a clean glass and offered it to Bonnie. She shook her head, he shrugged and drained the glass in one gulp, quickly refilling it.

"Feeling guilty? About stretchy, stretchy Allegra?", Bonnie asked, eyebrows raised.

"What do you want, Bonnie?"

"You have nothing to feel bad about, you know. Elena wants you to be happy. No matter how bad your taste may be." Bonnie reassured.

"Yeah, she'd be thrilled, I'm sure. I plan on writing her a journal entry about it.", Damon snapped. "What's significant about Tuesday, then? How did I fuck up this time?"

"I thought you were coming over. My place, for some Netflix."

"Oh. Didn't we do that last week? And the week before? And the week before that?"

"Exactly! It's a thing now. An established thing! And you didn't show up. I called you and you didn't answer." Bonnie felt a bit silly now, her voice had risen a little, embarrassed and annoyed.

"Sorry for worrying you,", Damon smiled a little. His apology was genuine, he was surprised to realise. "I need to charge my phone."

"I wasn't worried!", Bonnie responded too quickly.

"Sure you weren't. Does Enzo know you rushed over here at the crack of mid-morning to make sure I hadn't staked myself?", Damon asked conversationally, swirling a third glass of whiskey around and around.

"Don't be an asshole. I was really looking forward to re-visiting Jess and Rory: the Early Years. And if you're not there I can't really justify rewatching Gilmore Girls by myself!", Bonnie clarified.

"I'm fine. Thanks. Really. I'm treading water, killing time. We'll bond over boys together next week. We'll even have a pillowfight in our underwear. I'll bring the organic anti-wrinkle face masks."

"Are you, though?", Bonnie asked bluntly. "There's a missing girl in Mystic Falls, I heard it on the radio on the drive over."

"Why Bonnie, you think if you give me a foot of breathing space I'll implode and turn back into Evil Damon and start chomping up villagers? I told you I'm fine." Anger sparked in his eyes, just briefly. Bonnie caught it. "Thanks for trusting me though."

"It's hard being alone, feeling alone, and I thought-", Bonnie began.

"Contrary to whatever you thought," Damon interrupted, "your friendship is not that meaningful to me. You're not my salvation." He slugged back the last of the whiskey. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go shower cheerleader and the accompanying body glitter off parts of my person."

Damon stalked up the stairs, his body language tense and furious.

"You had better show up at the cabin next Tuesday, Damon!", Bonnie called after him. "Jess is going to outbid Dean for Rory's picnic basket, and you'll swoon over it with me whether you like it or not!"

 _(Author's Note: Thanks for reading, I appreciate you! This is the second story I've ever written, and the first one was quite a long time ago now. This writing thing is hard, I don't know how you all do it. Feel free to leave me some feedback, I'd love to know what you think!)_


	3. What is that?

The following Tuesday evening, Damon barged into Bonnie's cabin, a bottle of bourbon in hand.

"You should learn to knock," she told him casually, lounging on the couch.

"You should learn to lock your door," he retorted. Glancing around, Damon asked, "Where's Enzo this time? Does he think we're cuckolding him? Because I am for this plan." He winked at her suggestively.

"Shut up. He takes poetry classes. And refuses to Netflix with me."

"Smart man, poetry notwithstanding," Damon said. "I found her," he continued without preamble, shoving Bonnie's legs aside so he could sit next to her. "Not dead. I didn't kill her. You can apologise whenever you're ready."

"There are a lot of 'her's that you might maybe have killed, you're going to need to be more specific."

"The girl. The missing Mystic Falls girl you so rudely accused me of munching on. She ran away to be with her creepy older internet boyfriend. I rescued her, I kinda deserve a medal. Took her home, compelled her to forget everything. I am the hero this town needs. She's thirteen, by the way. You thought I killed a thirteen year old? Jesus, Bonnie. I have standards." Damon uncapped the bourbon and poured himself a glass.

"You do. That's true. Remember that time you killed your nephew's pregnant wife? That was up to your standards.", Bonnie shrugged.

Damon scowled. "And it was the worst thing I ever did. You know that. And the baby survived anyway. 'Til recently. So really I just killed an insignificant nobody, no big deal. Mundane. Move on. Thanks for bringing up that happy memory."

"What did you do to the creep who kidnapped the teen?". Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, come _on_. You do not get to judge me on this one. Creepy paedophile, Bonnie." Damon drummed his fingers on the couch. Bonnie stared at him impassively. "You told me to come, and now you're just going to preach morality at me? Because there are sexy sorority girls that could be servicing me right as we speak."

She studied him for a moment. "You're spiralling," Bonnie observed. "Withdrawing, angry, permanently drunk..."

"I saved that girl. You're alive. I'd stop spiralling if I killed you, got Elena back."

"No," she mused. "If you kill me, you'd only spiral further. Plus, Elena wouldn't forgive you."

"I'll tell her it was a tragic boating accident."

"Plus, Enzo wouldn't forgive you," she pointed out.

"And I'll tell _him_ that you were trying to seduce me and when I shoved you away in disgust you tripped and hit your head and somehow my fangs tore through your jugular and all your blood was mysteriously drained. He'll buy it. I'm a good storyteller."

"You're delightful, as always." Bonnie fetched a bottle of white wine, two glasses and a blood bag from the kitchen. As she made her way back to the lounge area Damon noticed a flurry of activity at her feet. A fluffy mostly-white kitten leapt onto her toes, trying to trip her over. Its tail was stubby and its eyes were an unnerving pale blue. It was covered in black splotches.

Bonnie handed the blood bag to Damon who sipped at it, studying the fuzzy new arrival. "Why...?"

"Witch's familiar," Bonnie responded, pouring the wine.

"Enzo will devour it as a midnight snack."

"Not if he knows what's good for him, he won't."

Damon dug into the blood bag as the kitten climbed onto the couch between he and Bonnie. He recoiled slightly, furrowing his brow. It rolled over onto its back, chubby little fuzzy paws dangling in the air. Its eyes bore a mischievous glint. A huge part of Damon wanted to crush it with one hand. Obliviously, it purred gently.

"I hear these things chew your face off in your sleep," Damon said.

"So might Enzo. So might you, for that matter. I'm a risk taker." Bonnie dangled an old shoelace above the tiny kitten and it swiped at it enthusiastically. "It's a vicious predator. I think she's your patronus."

"It's scary that I understand that reference," Damon sighed. Bonnie had cheerfully talked him into watching a few of the Harry Potter movies with her. He had quite enjoyed the Snape character, though he'd never admit it to her. He'd bought the book series afterwards and finished them all within a fortnight.

Bonnie, feeling merciful, allowed Damon to choose their entertainment for the evening, a reprieve from her soap opera dramas. His suggestions of hardcore pornography were dismissed immediately and instead they settled in to watch Shaun of the Dead.

Damon _was_ spiralling. It annoyed him to no end that Bonnie could tell. Elena kept Damon grounded, he didn't know how to be...good... without her. And he was trying, for Stefan, and for Bonnie. But mostly for Elena. To be worthy of her when she awoke. Stefan and Caroline were away traveling, Alaric was busy with the twins and Damon was... nothing. He was doing his best not to kill, to stay in control of his rage. The kiddie fiddler deserved what he got though; Damon felt no remorse over that one. In fact, he was downright pleased with himself. He spent three days tracking the missing girl, spurred on by the desire to prove to Bonnie he hadn't killed her. He wasn't sure why exactly, but her thinking he was capable of killing indiscriminately again infuriated him. Perhaps because he had been fighting so hard to not do just that.

But, in that moment, he had Bonnie. And British horror comedy zombies. And blood and booze. And a kitten, for some reason. It rested a paw on his leg. He didn't shoo it away.

"Enzo is taking me to California next week," Bonnie said.

"Mmm. The girls are hot there. I wish they all could be California girls. Inside, outside, USA.", Damon responded.

"And you're staying here!," Bonnie grinned brightly. "You're kitten-sitting for me!"

Damon raised his eyebrows. "There is a 100% chance of that _not_ happening, Witchy. I don't nurture baby animals. I slaughter things." The kitten yawned, tiny delicate fangs glistening before falling asleep again, curled herself against Damon. He gave it a sudden shove onto the floor. Startled, the kitten shook her head and stalked off to her food bowl.

"I'll be gone for four days. You can manage to keep it alive for me for four days. Feed her, play with her, don't eat her, don't burn down the cabin."

Damon shook his head in protest as Bonnie, practically giddy, said, "Her name is Damona, by the way."


	4. Fluffy Cow-God

It was afraid of the outdoors. That'd be right. So no matter that he'd left the door wide open, that the curtains and blinds were billowing and undulating, letting in a strong breeze through the open windows, it had no interest in investigating the trees and the birds and the bunnies, or whatever it was he could hear scampering about. Squirrels, probably.

Damon straddled an uncomfortable wooden desk chair, sculling tequila. He had finished off the bourbon an hour earlier.

Atop the fireplace mantle sat that thing. From a few feet away, Damon stared at it, his unnervingly azureous eyes fixating on the fluff. It stared back at Damon, its unnaturally azureous eyes fixating on the bottle in his hand, eagerly tracking the light reflecting off the glass as he rocked it back and forth.

Damon stood quickly, unsteadily, and grabbed the kitten by the head, tossing it gently out the door.

"Animals belong outside. Go eat a cricket. Don't come back."

The kitten landed ungracefully but quickly righted herself, a little confused as she straightened out her limbs. She sat in the grass and took a couple of testing sniffs of the air, displeased with whatever information her nostrils gave her. Pupils dilating in fear, her already impressive fuzz increased in fuzziness threefold as all her hair stood on end and she darted back inside, tucking herself underneath a small armchair.

Damon had flopped onto Bonnie and Enzo's bed with a copy of The Old Man and the Sea. Enzo's, probably, he liked to pretend he was learned. Part of Damon really hated that guy, but he acknowledged it was because in many ways they were the same animal. Enzo reflected back to Damon the darkest parts of himself. Even worse though, Enzo's good side was purer than his own. Noble, strong, brave; all those things Damon knew he wasn't.

The tiny black and white fuzzball leapt up onto the top of the armchair, staring at Damon. It meowed at him. A tiny meow, high pitched and thready, barely there. Unsure. It wanted something.

The book slipped from his fingers, the world blurring at the edges from alcohol intoxication. The kitten looked like a cow. White fuzz marred with black spots. A little black nose, black cheeks. One of its fat front paws was almost entirely black, like it had stomped around in paint. She really was a teeny tiny fluff cow. But even more useless than a real cow because he couldn't milk it. Couldn't even make burgers out of it.

"You're not naming this thing after me," Damon had told Bonnie.

"Damona," she had emphasised. "Not Damon."

"Damon. Ah."

"Da. Mona."

"Witchy. I will hurt you."

"Bitey. You wouldn't. Because you'll leave baby Damona an orphan. That would be sadistic."

"When you adopt a tiger, you can name it after me."

"I didn't name her after you! Be more self absorbed, Damon, I dare you. Damona is the name of a goddess."

"Yeah, right."

"Celtic goddess. Goddess of cows. I swear to Goddess it's true!"

The fluffy cow-goddess kitten meowed again. Pointedly. Louder this time, longer. Staring Damon down. Fluff cow had balls. Figurative ones, probably. Damon could only admire that.

A phone rang. From somewhere. It sounded really far away. Or a handful of feet away. Same thing. Damon flopped back onto the bed, slopped a hand over his face. The phone stopped but immediately started up again. Rolling his eyes, he let gravity help him plop to his feet and plucked his phone off the desk where he had left it. The kitten was in reaching distance now and it craned its neck to sniff at him. Damon flicked its nose and it toppled backwards off the back of the armchair with a surprised squeak, landing on the seat cushion below.

"I am not a fluffy cow-god," he slurred into his phone.

"Okay. That's really nice for you?", Bonnie responded. "Just wanted to see how you were going. So far, it sounds like you're drunk and indignant."

"You're drunk and indignant," he parroted defensively.

"And twelve. It sounds like you're twelve."

"Your face is twelve."

Enzo was snoozing in a poolchair beside Bonnie. Why they were lounging by the pool instead of the actual ocean, right next to the resort, Bonnie wasn't quite sure why. Enzo seemed to fear the water after the Siren shenanigans though and she didn't want to push him. The sun was shining, there were cocktails, and Enzo was shirtless, so Bonnie had little reason to complain. She didn't want to let on to Enzo how concerned she was for Damon; she felt utterly helpless. He was awash in a sea of misery and loneliness, hanging on by a thread. She didn't know if she could be that thread, didn't really wanna be, but he couldn't connect with anybody else. Maybe Stefan, but he was in blissful honeymoon mode, exponentially compounding Damon's solitude.

"What's she doing?", Bonnie asked him.

Damon draped himself over the back of the armchair, staring intimidatingly at the kitten.

"It escaped."

"What?", Bonnie exclaimed. "No. How? Where is she?"

"I dunno what to tell you," he shrugged, leaning down closer, so his nose was less than an inch away from touching the kitten's nose. The kitten gazed back levelly. "I must have accidentally left a window open. Or maybe it darted out when I opened the door. I don't know how it happened. I've been so careful and so vigilant."

"Are you looking for her? She's a baby, she couldn't have gone far!", Bonnie's heart was racing. She had only had Damona a short while but already felt a great deal of affection and responsibility for her safety and wellbeing. She knew putting Damon in charge of her kitten was a risk but had hoped it might be good for him.

"I've got an eye out for it," Damon said lightly, human blue eyes locked with miniature feline matching blue eyes. "Prepare for the worst though, a fox probably got it."

Damona, taking advantage of Damon's nearness, stuck her pink tongue out and licked the tip of Damon's nose.

"Euuuuugh!", Damon bellowed, launching himself backwards, standing upright suddenly and swaying. He could still feel the scratchy sensation from the cow-kitten's unexpectedly barbed tongue. "Why's it so rough then?", he scolded the kitten, offended she had taken such liberties.

"What's rough? Damon?" Bonnie sounded worried.

"The pain and sadness of losing a beloved kitten. She was so sweet. I loved her with my whole heart. She saved a wretch like me. Now she's gone. For a brief moment I felt like I could get through this life, that everything will be o-kay, that I had reconnected with the universe. No longer, Bonnie," Damon pontificated, conducting his little speech with both hands.

The kitten watched his dramatic gesturing, figured he was playing. She let out a really happy meow. A kitten trill, long and melodic.

"Damon? Is that her?", Bonnie said excitedly, hearing the kitten vocalisations.

"Oh. Found her," Damon said nonchalantly, scooping up the kitten and pressing it to the phone. Bonnie could hear her purring.

"Where was she?", Bonnie said, relief flooding through her veins.

"I wrestled her from the jaws of a bear," Damon responded, dropping the kitten on the floor.

"She's okay?"

"She's fine, Bonnie. Keeps meowing at me. What does it want?"

"Have you fed her?"

"Yep. Yesterday."

"She needs to be fed every day, Damon! Three times a day, I left you instructions, did you read them?"

"Cow-god ate them," he told her, which wasn't a lie. He had given the piece of paper to the kitten for the express purpose of chewing it up. "So I don't see how she can still be hungry."

Bonnie shook her head. "Are you all right?"

"Are you skinnydipping right now? Because in my head you totally are," Damon deadpanned, sidestepping Bonnie's very annoying and constant question.

"Don't kill the kitten, okay?", she implored.

"Okay."

"Then yes," Bonnie told him, glancing down at her frilly lilac two-piece bathing suit. "I am skinnydipping right now."

"Thanks," Damon said, a smile gently playing on his lips.

"Call you tomorrow."

He hung up and eyeballed Damona. It meowed at him again. Ears perched tall, whiskers twitching.

Damon fetched it some dry kitten food from a box, shook some into a bowl and placed the bowl in front of it on the armchair. It sniffed the food delicately, considering. After a few moments, she sniffed the air and stared at Damon, meowing loudly in protest.

"That's what kittens eat, apparently. Don't blame me!", he told it. It leapt to the top of the armchair and rubbed against his arm affectionately. He knocked it away. It mewled loudly, hungry.

Ignoring it, he fetched his fallen book from the floor beside the bed and, along with a generous mouthful of tequila, switched his focus from the hangry fluff cow to Hemingway. Hemingway's aversion to verbosity was commendable. Damon preferred to get right to the point.

"Rrrrrr."

Action packed oceanic adventures dripped through Damon's mind.

'Rrrr. Mmmmmrrrrr. Mrrrrowwwl. Rrrr."

Damon glanced up only to see cow-kitten crouched down in a playful pounce position, tail wiggling in the air. She was eyeballing him intently.

"RrrrrRRRRrrrrroooooow. Mmmmmrrr. Rrrrrrowwwl. Mrr."

Rolling his eyes as dramatically as he knew how, spinning his whole head in a circle to complete the effect, he levered himself off the bed and pulled all of the windows closed. Exiting the cabin, he slammed the door behind himself.

Returning three quarters of an hour later, Damon emptied his jacket pocket of his bounty onto the kitchen counter. Hunting while intoxicated was something of a challenge, but he quite enjoyed the dancing swirling colours of the forest when he was day-drunk. He'd sobered a little at this juncture, his vamp alcohol tolerance was sky high.

His eyes swept through the cabin, stopping when he spotted cow-kitten asleep in the middle of the bed. Damon waltzed over and swept up the kitten, plopping it unceremoniously in front of the spoils. Damona sniffed at the three dragonflies, grasshopper, lizard and mouse Damon had caught and killed for her. She wasn't entirely certain what to do with them.

Damon picked up a dead dragonfly and the kitten wrapped her paw around his fingers, snatching it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully before he could take it away.

Satisfied the cat could figure out how to devour the rest, Damon switched on the television and plonked himself on the couch settling himself with a blood bag from the fridge. Flicking to Netflix, he pressed play on the next episode of Gilmore Girls in the queue. Bonnie needn't know. Rory skipped school and hopped a bus to visit Jess in New York, missing her mother's graduation. Damon's heart wasn't entirely dead. He could feel the romantic tension; good girl, bad boy...

Cow-god had munched her way through the dragonflies and grasshopper, and eaten the tail off the lizard. Pleased, she leapt up onto Damon's knee. Engrossed in the love story unfolding before him, he gently stroked the kitten's head, scratching first behind one ear, and then the other.

The kitten purred.


End file.
